Shoe polish
by Fissie
Summary: Short one shot. Gambit's on an undercover mission at school. He's determined to get kicked out before the end of the first class.


I made this story for a fanfic challenge by Star-of-Chaos on the site. It had to feature two characters of opposing teams at school and one of the two had to comment on the shoes of other. He or she had to end up at the principle's office. 

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but a disturbed mind.

A/N Before I start, may I mention I was in an odd mood when I wrote this? Thank you. I was in an odd mood when I wrote this.

_----------------------------------------------------------------_

_Shoe polish_

Fissie

As Gambit walked up to his first class a song played in his mind. We don' need no education... but apparently Magneto thought otherwise. Sure, it was an undercover mission but it was still a horrid disgrace that he, Remy LeBeau, Prince of the New Orleans Guild of Thieves, mutant and above all twenty-year-old had been reduced to schoolboy. And he really didn't think it was necessary for Colossus to have insisted on changing his clothing style. He didn't care if it was 'today's fashion' he didn't understand why people would wear a t-shirt over a long sleeved shirt. It was very uncomfortable. And he really, really didn't think it was necessary for Pyro to have shaven his off goatee and dyed his hair black 'for credibility reasons only' in his sleeping pill-induced sleep. And he really, really didn't enjoy Quicksilver commenting on how ridiculous he looked. But neither did Quicksilver. Remy briefly smiled. The bruise on Remy's hand stood in no contrast with the broken jaw on Quicksilver's face.

And so Gambit entered the history classroom, looking like an eighteen year old with a fairly odd fashion taste, brown eyes and with the determination of getting kicked out permanently by the end of this class.

He sort of had hoped to share his first class with Rogue; the beautiful, gothic-looking girl. In stead he shared his class with Scott; the preppy, idiotic-looking guy. But, looking the way Remy did, he couldn't really comment on Scott's clothing.

The teacher welcomed Remy in. ''Ah, you must be Anthony Finley. Welcome.'' Anthony Finley? He knew letting Pyro pick a name would be a bad thing. Anthony Finley. Did he look like a fucking Anthony?! ''You can sit next to Scott Summers, right there.''

The exasperation did not show in his voice as he spoke a ''Thank you.'' in a perfect British accent. He strolled down lazily to sit next to his enemy, now classmate, Scott, receiving interested looks and jealous glares from the girls and boys in the class. Scott didn't recognize him. He reached out to shake Remy's...Anthony's hand.

''Hi, I'm Scott.''

''Pleasure's all mine.'' Remy said with a smile. Scott gave him a disturbed look. Maybe this class could be enjoyable after all. A plan was forming in Remy's mind, casually entitled 'How to get out of here in fifteen minutes and annoy Scott as much as I can.' Ah, life could be good.

''Alright, pay attention.'' The teacher started. ''Take your book and go to page 145. You'll see a few pictures of some old posters there. Pick one and write down your interpretation. Work in pairs.''

Scott opened his book and placed it the center of the table so 'Anthony' could look at it too. ''Let's get started. You pick a poster.''

Remy picked a workers poster announcing a strike. In his mind the plan had been formed. He was enjoying this already.

Scott took his notebook and a pen and started his observation. ''Okay. Well, what I think this is, is a clear example of...'' While Scott was explaining his point of view, Remy's gaze slowly went to the floor, more specific, the floor by Scott's feet. ''...what are you doing?'' He asked confused.

Remy pretended to be startled. ''What? Oh nothing. Do continue.''

''Right. As I was saying, I think you stop that?''

Remy gave him the most innocent look he could manage. ''Stop what?''

''Stop looking at my feet.''

''I'm not looking at your feet. What on earth gave you that impression?''

Scott sighed and continued. ''This is a very clear example of...''

''You have nice shoes.'' Remy interrupted.

''What?''

''Very lovely. And a very nice colour. Wonderful fit, I presume.'' Remy stared at Scott with a little too much intensity for Scott's taste.

''Oh, eh, yeah. Thanks, I suppose. Can we go on?'' Things were getting pretty awkward for Scott. He opened his mouth to continue, but Remy interrupted again.

''May I borrow them?'' He said without blinking.

''What?!'' Scott was not happy about this conversation or about the person he was having the conversation with.

''Your shoes? May I borrow them?'' He spoke smiling, while shifting closer to his startled working companion.

Scott inched away. ''What do you...Why? No.''

''May I touch them?'' Remy continued.

''What the...'' Scott said, while Remy leaned forward. ''Hey, what do you think you're...''

''May I at least sniff at them?'' Remy begged, looking up to his by now totally freaked out classmate.

''No!'' Scott jumped out of his chair, bumped into some sitting classmates and fell to the floor, throwing his glasses off in the process by accident. Chaos was imminent and so was a new sunroof. Panic broke loose in a matter of seconds.

--------

And that is how Remy got to sit in the principle's office after fifteen minutes, with an innocent pout on the outside and a wide grin on the inside, while hearing the words

''...I shall have to expel you from classes...'' Remy's world was in the clear again. He idly wondered what museum he would rob tonight to celebrate this joyous event.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Did I mention I was in an odd mood when I wrote this?


End file.
